On June 27th Dr. Arthur Willam Ross (“Bill”) died of cancer and heart failure and passed away peacefully at his home surrounded by family and friends and within sight of his hydrangeas and the marsh that he loved.
Dr. Ross was born in Mobile, Alabama in 1943 where he attended Murphy HS before obtaining his undergraduate degree from Davidson University. He served in the Army after college and was honorably discharged as a first Lieutenant in the medical corps. Following the Army he returned to school obtaining his PhD in clinical psychology from the University of South Carolina followed by Internships and Residencies at the Oregon Health & Science University in Portland Oregon.
Dr. Ross returned to the Lowcountry and settled on Sullivan’s Island and brought a passion for youth soccer back from Portland, helping found the Hungryneck Soccer Association in the late seventies. His career in Charleston began at Family Medicine at MUSC where he worked for a number of years seeing patients and teaching medical students.
In the early 80s he departed MUSC and opened a private practice in Mt. Pleasant (Psychology and Associates). There his life’s work flourished as a child psychologist. Dr. Ross counseled thousands of area children and teens in their moments of crisis, doubt, pain and turmoil. Using his acute senses of empathy, compassion and rational advice, he provided many of his patients with solace and genuine healing in their hearts and minds. These gifts and that important work resonates in the lives he touched then, now and forever.
Bill remained humble and curious until the end. An incomplete listing of his passions and interests include: golf, science, civil rights, liberal politics, photography, humanism, evolutionary theory, Davidson basketball, Steph Curry, gardening, backpacking, cooking his Mother’s gumbo recipe, soccer, bridge, racquetball, sarcasm, music (from Bach to the Allman Brothers and all things in between and beyond), a good pun, birds and reading. Bill was a longtime member of the LOD and the HDRT.
Beyond this rangy bouillabaisse of pursuits, at the center of his being was his love and devotion to his wife and children. As a Grandfather, there was none more loyal, engaged and creative. Bill and Niki are thought to be the only grandparents in history to allow their two young grandsons to spend the night with them every Saturday night from the time they were 6 months old until he passed.
Bill was proceeded in death by his parents Arthur Leonidas Ross and Dorothy Sanding Taylor, his sister Nancy Taylor Ross, his beloved Aunt Nannie Taylor Winberry and his first wife Rosalyn Hazlehurst Mitchell, Niki’s father Robert Eugene Wilson.
Bill is survived by his devoted wife of 31 years Niki Wilson Ross of Mt. Pleasant, his son Buff and Leila (Davenport) Ross of Sullivan’s Island, his children by marriage Alex and Laura (MacGregor) of Philadelphia, Janie Haddad Tompkins and Paul F. Tompkins of Los Angeles and his closest friend of 48 years, Thom Hiers of Sullivan’s Island, and his son Gary Hiers of Mt. Pleasant and his beloved grandchildren Jack and Barlow Ross.
The family would like to thank the numerous caregivers, nurses, doctors and friends that have shown immense love, patience, support and grace throughout this process. His energy has returned to the universe but his spirit remains forever in the hearts and souls he touched during his time on this planet.
A Memorial Service will be held at McAlister-Smith Funeral Home, 1520 Rifle Range Road, Mt. Pleasant, SC 29464 on Wednesday, June 29, 2016 at 2:30 PM.
In lieu of flowers the family requests donations in Bill’s honor be made to 180 Place (http://one80place.org/)
As many of my friends and family are acutely aware, My Father Dr. Arthur William Ross “Bill” has endured a lengthy illness of cancer and then congestive heart failure. At 2:05 this afternoon he succumbed to the ravages of those foes. He passed away peacefully. For days he was surrounded by family and friends, but being the consummate gentleman, he waited until everyone finally decided to give him a break and some peace and quiet before exiting the stage. It was on his own terms and wearing his beloved FDR T-shirt that said “Old School Progressive”. The planet has lost one of its most original, empathetic, humble and compassionate citizens. His body just left the house clad in a Davidson Wildcat shirt, one of his dear wife’s quilts and an American Flag for being a veteran. Encased in layers of things that mattered to him, his alma mater, his devoted wife and the country that he loved from the perspective of someone that believed in the hope, promise and acceptance that this complex republic represents.
Allow me to be more loquacious, personal and profane than the parsimonious obituary construct affords in this memorialization of Bill. Even within that rubric, I will certainly be able to merely imply a few highlights from such a well spent life. In moments like this I am continually reminded of the frailty and the ineffability of language to encapsulate love and loss, yet they remain our only rusty implements for expression.
It has been a long and arduous 352 days since he was diagnosed. Throughout the journey he maintained his sense of humor, humility, dignity and most of all his grace. Despite the constant prodding, zapping, blood draws and the innumerable scans he was polite and sweet to everyone he encountered and apologized more than he complained. In his final days, he managed to passionately root for his favorite Wildcat Steph Curry throughout the playoffs and the US Men’s Soccer team. Alas, they both came up short but that’s what happens to a loyal fan, you lose more than you ever win. He continued to follow the political scene as well and hopefully those results will be more positive.
Loyalty was another trait that Bill exemplified more deeply through actions than the disposability of words. When he and Mother divorced, my visions were clouded by suppositions garnered from “Kramer vs Kramer” and more acutely by the experiences witnessed between other couples in our community. Acrimony wasn’t their game thankfully. Pain was not completely eschewed from the emotional equations as much as they strived. As their child though, it was mitigated, minimized and genuinely spackled by the fact that they loved each other and they loved me. This is a surprisingly rare gift that I can only thank them for and encourage anyone who reads this and ends up in a that sad place; please respect each other, the genesis of your love and, most importantly those children, because that matters.
Providence lead Billy to meet Niki and familial plurality blossomed. I cannot even begin to encapsulate their love story, but will forever be grateful for the circumstances that aligned and made this a reality. Niki loved me as her own son and Bill welcomed Alex and Janie into his life and heart without boundaries. As an only child (I guess orphan now just to be maudlin) I was excited to have siblings. I feel like we eclipsed the “step” and achieved a deeper meaning of that complex equation. Bill loved them with equality and sincerity of heart. They loved him with reflective emotions. Rose also forged unique relationships with Alex, Janie and especially Niki herself. As I travel life’s byways I continue to be reminded how utterly approbated this should be and yet singularly rare that situation was.
Throughout the past months, we as a family were continually struck and appreciative of the profundity of kindness and the depth of care exhibited by the caregivers who have touched our lives and shaped this experience. From nurses to hospice to PT, techs, doctors and even the food service workers we were reminded of the collective human experience rather than the solo journeys we maintain in our singular beings. Compassion writ large is such a positive reminder of the inherent good in our hearts that happens simply, humbly and without reward throughout the health care system. As an irreverent aside, Bill was humorously proud that he hadn’t vomited since 1980, a streak he somehow maintained through innumerable RH treatments, chemotherapy, radiation and everything he fought at the end of his life.
I also wanted to thank everyone for the kind words, calls, notes and even pixelated declarations of sympathy and support. I can never thank or acknowledge them individually but they matter and had potent positive impact upon us. Thank you.
Bill’s curiosity was as expansive as his heart and remained that way until the very end. An incomplete listing of his passions and interests include: golf, science, civil rights, liberal politics, photography, humanism, evolutionary theory, Davidson basketball, Steph Curry, gardening, backpacking, cooking his Mother’s gumbo recipe, soccer, malapropisms that he collected, bridge, racquetball, sarcasm, music (from Bach to the Allman Brothers and all things in between and beyond), a good pun, birds and reading. Bill was a longtime member of the League of Dorks and the House of David Racquetball Team.
Beyond this rangy bouillabaisse of pursuits, at the center of his being was his love and devotion to his wife and children. As a Grandfather, there was none more loyal, engaged and creative. Bill and Niki are thought to be the only grandparents in history to allow their two young grandsons to spend the night with them every Saturday night from the time they were 6 months old until he passed. He invented games from hall soccer, writing stories based on words drawn from a hat and building bows and arrows from sticks in the yard. He was able love and play in ways that were so pure. As parents we are often too fettered from our obligation and constructs to enjoy such boundless love and adulation. Spoiling them and making his grandchildren laugh and smile was the ultimate pleasure for him and a loss that will never replicate but we’ll try.
Implied in a previous post was the gift we received on Thursday when Dad regained consciousness for the better part of day. Upon awaking he wanted to go out on his deck. With a little struggle we managed to get him into a wheelchair and put him out there. He dead-headed flowers, watered, played music, looked through binoculars and tried to communicate. His voice had begun to fade both figuratively and practically and communication was hard at this point. It had gotten difficult, sometimes approaching charades, with Niki and I offering frustrating suppositions to decipher what he was saying. However, in two instances his voice returned to him in full strength.
We were staring at the marsh and apropos of nothing he started talking. I made him repeat and came in close before I could hear what he was saying. As clear as day he says, “I am waiting for you to finish your story in which I am the hero!” Of course I broke down into an embrace and assured him that he was my hero and not in a shitty clichéd manner but that I understood the metaphorical implications of his request. The story is yet to be fully written but he is the hero through Jack and Barlow. As we were wheeling him back in, I had to turn his chair around facing his hydrangeas and the marsh and he asked me to pause. “What a great fucking day to be HERE!” he proclaimed. And that sentiment I hope everyone will carry in their hearts tonight, tomorrow and in the future. We are lucky.
His energy has returned to the universe but his spirit remains forever in the hearts and souls that he touched during his time on this planet….peace father